Haunting
by So Many Personnas
Summary: A RD shipper, because i haven't seen any...Reyes and Doggett try to sort out feelings for each other as Monica deals with her haunting past (hence the name...lol)
1. Reminiscence

Title: Haunting

Summery: Mostly a D/R ship, with a lot of definate lies about Monica's past, but it came to me, and i thought it would be fun to write.

Disclaimer: Thankfully, it isn't mine, i would've killed everyone off the show due to frustration, but Damn Chris Carter for making some awesome characters when no matter how hard i've tried, i can't. But one Day, Chris, one day...

Please review, no flames hopefully, but they are better than nothing.  
  
Monica Reyes didn't have to think hard in order to fall back into her childhood. It was always there, lurking on the edge of her sub-conious, waiting for the right moment to pounce. The middle of a case wasn't the right time for them to come however, especially with feelings escalating between herself and Doggett. Recently she had found his presence slightly intoxicating, and just being around him made her have feelings that she hadn't had scince her last ex-boyfriend years ago, feelings that were purely sexual. So, it didn't help that when she saw the victim she started crying, and then Doggett, in a rare show of tenderness, pulled her away from the body and asked her what was the matter. His hand had rested lightly on her back, and between the painful memories of her past, and the intoxicating closeness of her partner, she didn't know what she was feeling anymore. But as soon as he had dropped her off at her apartment, the walls came closing in on her. She jumped up and decided to run down to the cornor store. She was in the perfect mood to drink herself into obliviation, screw the hangover she knew would be there tomarrow.  
  
Monica groggily punched the alarm clock on the side of her bed. 6'o clock in the morning. Her head was already doing somersaults. Dreams of evils were dispelled as she turned on the bedside lamp and inwardly groaned at the pain it sent slicing through her forehead. Hangovers, she could deal with though, perhaps not in her usual happy-go-lucky perky style, but she would deal. Daylight helped put her traumatic past behind her, and gave her the illusion that maybe, one day, she would find someone to love her and not hurt her like she had been hurt. She wouldn't miss the sun for the world.


	2. Luck

He noticed that she wasn't her usual perky self, But John Doggett wasn't all that worried about his partner. She had cried sometimes after an unusually gruesome crime scene, and although never imediatly after viewing the body, he understood why. The victim was a young girl, only 16 years- old. She had ran away from home a few weeks before with her boyfriend, who turned up hours later in a video chatroom, attempting to seduce another young girl. The worst thing about it was that the girl was the daughter of Maryland's governor. The guy had beat her within inches of her life, then left her to die a slow, painful death. His claim was that she deserved it, she was a whiny, demanding little bitch, and that was when Doggett noticed Monica chewing her bottem lip so ferociously it started to bleed. She ended up walking out on the questioning, claiming to be fine when Doggett asked her about it later. He knew better, but he also knew not to persue it. Monica was a stubborn woman, and continuing to bother her would've only succeeded in pissing her off.  
  
Her eyes were glazed over, so he knew that she had been drinking the night before, but she was perfectly functional now, so he didn't question her about it. She accidently brushed his hand when she was looking at the girl's morgue photos, and John felt that familiar feel of butterflies explode through his chest. Ever scince the X-files had been closed a few months ago, and the partners weren't faced with running for their lives from ghosts and goblins, john had been feeling funny feelings in his abdomen when ever Monica touched him, much less smiled at him. Then his stomach did an outright flip, almost jumping through his esophagus. He wondered momentarilly about Monica's feelings, and what she waould say about his mental ramblings about her, then noticed as a tear dropped on the photos, still in her hands.  
  
"Monica, What's the matter? Tell me what's wrong." He took the pictures from her and guided her slowly to his chair behind his desk. He took a moment to notice the way her back seemed to have been molded for his hands, then focused on her tears, she wasn't a crier, and only reacted this strongly to a case that had personnal rings to it.  
  
"She's like me...Or like I was, only I made it." Monica's tears flowed freely know, and even with as much as he knew about her, he still did'nt know what to do. so he kept his hand on her back, and tried as hard as he could to comfort a pain he didn't understand, "Well, Monica, maybe-uh- maybe it's that- uh- that you were lucky, or-a- something like that."  
  
She chuckled an unhappy laugh, trying to stop crying, but not quite succeeding, "Luck sucks. Some people have it, some people don't. I was one of those people lucky enough to have never known their parents, and lucky enough to get a couple of other parents who had 6 other kids, and barely enough to feed them. Not to metion the fact that i was lucky enough for every godamn relationship I've ever been in to fail miserably, or worse. Maybe now it's time for me to realize all that extra luck in my life, right John? I'm alive, not happy, drinking myself into a stupor 4 nights a week, when the TV doesn't do a good job of feeding my brain with enough shit to keep me from jumping out my damn 8th floor apartment window!!!! Wow!! Look at all of that unrealized luck lurking right out the fucking widow...laughing at me."  
  
Doggett didn't know what to say, afraid that if he said something, she would run off into another tangent that he didn't know what to say after, so he just rubbed her back, trying awkardly to comfort her still sobbing body, wanting nothing more than to kiss the tears and bitterness away from her, and to show her that luck really was alive, hell, he had found her, right? 


	3. Visit

TheFreakyOne:ty ty ty for being the inspiration, (well really just kick in the ass) i needed to keep my updates coming. And someday i'll write a Mulder/Scully angsty romance for ya, that has nothing to do with Christmas at Mother's or an FBI function. njdudette:i know, but my father's copmuter neglects to have Word!! so i'm stuck without a spell check! so it's all me and i can't spell wortha damn! but i'll try harder for ya! Gothic Spook: Ty ty for your review, you asked for more so here it is...  
  
No, no, no. I refuse to think about that. no, it's over, there's nothing i can do right now. Absolutly NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT NOW!!!  
  
Monica finished her mental rant physically breathless, as if she had screamed it rather than thought it. She was curled up on her couch with another six pack of beer, unfortunatly, she only had one more left, and this was her second pack. She was still slipping back into memories she didn't want. She heard a knock on the door and cussed to herself. The last thing in the world that she wanted was for someone to witness her in this state. She mentally ran down the list of people who could be on the other side of the door.  
  
Jehovas Witnesses? No-they hate me by now i'm sure  
  
That was were her list ended, no friends coming to just check up on her. No boyfriends to come make sure she feels loved. Just herself, a bottle of beer, and thoughts of two exact oposites, her love for her partner, and the fear she had of love like this one.  
  
"Monica open the door!"  
  
Monica's head almost snapped off of her neck as she recognized the voice. She got up a bit unsteadily and walked to the front door, not noticing that she was walking in a less-than-straight line.She stopped in front of the door and tried for a moment to fix her hair and straightened her clothes all the time thinking about how she was acting like a teenager, but still...  
  
When she opened the door, he could see that she was drunk. She was leaning up agianst the door as if she needed the support. And when she invited him in her gestures were overly defined, as though she was trying hard to act sober. John made his way behind her swaying figure, wishing that he could just pick her up and carry her. But such things weren't apropriate for two partners. She plopped down on the couch as if she was proud to make it there, and curled her feet up under her. He sat down across from her, and looked at her, studing her eyes for hins as to what was wrong with her.  
  
"Hi." She said, managing to keep her slurring to a minimum.  
  
"Hi. How are you feeling? I just thought I'd come check up on you after-uh- earlier." Smooth John, start stuterring imediatly.  
  
"I feel...I feel -uh-fine. Yep. Monica feels fine."  
  
John had been with Monica when she was drunk before. He drove her home when she was drunk, but he hd never seen her like this, "And how much did you have to drink before you felt fine?"  
  
He saw her eyes flash with anger and knew that he was in for hell, "John, who-the hell-do you think-you are!?!? This is my damn..." she broke off, looking for the word, "LIFE!!! it's MINE!!! and i don't --need you telling--me what to do!!! I have had a lot to drink... but I AM NOT DRUNK!!!! I'm not drunk!"  
  
John found himself trrying hard not to laugh at her. She was a cute drunk, and this rant was evidence of how drunk she was, "Monica, I'm just here to help you. You look like you need it." She was crying again, "Monica. Um-uh-" He was stuck. Tears weren't his forte. He was more uncomfortable than he ever been in his life. at least with his Ex-wife she just told him what to do when she was crying, "I'll-uh- you want me to go make you some coffee?"he finished. She took a second before nodding yes. He got up and went into the kitchen searching for coffee, and for a way to stay calm. He really didn't like it when people cried. 


	4. Fallen

Monica sat back on the couch, her feet pulled up under her and her head resting on her knees, watching steam float up from the second cup of coffee that John hd made for her. This one was how she liked it, and not the straght black that she had had before to releive her from the beer. She couldn't bring herself to drink it, however. She wanted nothing more than to simply die in this little curled up position for the rest of her life. John sat down beside her with a cup of coffee for himself, and noticed her blank stare into space.  
  
"Hey, You ok?" He asked her, very simply.  
She managed not to cry again, but only barely, tears framed her eyes, "Yeah, John, thank you"  
"BS, Monica, i've seen you break out in sobs three times in the past two days. You don't cry like that, Monica. I've never seen you cry like that. You never have before."  
"John, you don't know me as well as you think." She said with a sigh.  
"Well then tell me Monica. I want to know."  
She shook her head, keeping it down to keep the tears partially hidden from veiw, "No you don't, John. Hell, I wish I didn't know me as well as I do." She was hurting and she wanted to climb into John's lap and feel his arms around her, protecting her, but she was too smart for that. As soon as she did that he would think that she was his, and he would hurt her, then leave her, with nothing but memories and scars. It was nonfailing when it came to her love life. They were always nice, sweet, there for her. They were her friends. Then, something happened and they were there, catching her as she fell, holding her. And then the next day, or week, or maybe even months later, it would start.  
  
She knew that she was crying again, and she felt John shift slightly on the couch. She wanted to stop, wanted for everything to be light and happy again, or as happy as it could be. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. It felt good to cry. Not like everything would be better, but it released her for a few moments. She felt John shift again, then felt heavy, muscular arms surround her. She was surprised at first, shocked. Then she succombed to the feeling of saftey that came with his arms around her. She unfurled herself from her little ball, rested her head on John's shoulder, and cried.  
  
Monica woke up slowly as she felt the sunrise through the window. her body was stiff from falling asleep on her couch. She must've fallen asleep and then John must've covered---.  
  
John. She had fallen. She didn't fight him. He was in her life now. Whether she wanted him to be or not. Life was already hard enough without an owner. Now she was his. His property. She was too pissed at herself to do anything. 


	5. What about Us?

about a month later...  
  
She hadn't talked to him about what happened in the apartment that night, so he took his cues from her and never mentioned it either. He figured that when she was ready, she would initiate the conversation. But it didn't happen, if anything, she threw him into a complete 180 by her reactions.  
  
John was surprised when by 8:00 Monica still hadn't came or called in. He was even more surprised when Folmer called him into the office. If possible he was shocked to see Monica already there, acting as though she was in deep, deep trouble. Folmer started talking, but after the first sentence, John didn't hear him.  
  
"Asked for relocation...To Texas..." ran through his mind. Hell without her, that was his envisionment. She still wouldn't look at him. But he caught a look at her face; it was red from tears. She hated it even more than he did, but if that was true, why did she ask to be relocated. To Texas of all places?!? it was as if she was going to leave the state, hell, leave the damn coast, in order to run from her feeelings.  
  
Was it him? Something he did? He said?  
  
He knew Folmer was still talking, and that the information he was giving would eventually be vital, but he got up and walked out. He wasn't in the right mood, or even space of mind to deal with the rationale behind this. Even if there was any rationale. He was in shock. Simply, Honestly. Shock. He heard Folmer call after him. Even Monica spoke up, her voice full of apology. He couldn't even speak. Couldn't tell them to fuck off, not really sure if he wanted to.  
  
He went to the basement office that they shared, that had been previously shared by the two lovers before them. He had thought that it was the office that was the catalyst for their feelings. Hell, Mulder and Scully ended up together, right. It was John and Monica's turn. They were supposed to live happily ever after. Get together, have a kid. Move to Europe, or wherever the hell the two ex-agents were. Be together. Never have to wake up sweating and crying in the middle of the night about his son. About Luke.  
  
But that obviously wasn't what Monica wanted. Or wouldn't let herself want it. She had feelings for him. And she knew it. But for some reason, sh epulled away, as though she was afraid.  
  
"John?" She was at the doorway, timid, but even then exuding the self- confidence he had come to love. Come to depend on. But he couldn't deal with it now.  
  
"I'm leaving tonight. I just thought that I'd say bye now. And that i'm sorry. It- It's just something I have to do. For me...For my sanity...Just- I don't- I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry." She finished her small speech and nearly ran out of the room.  
  
What about me, Monica? What if I'm the one who loves you? What do i do?  
  
AN: ahahahahaha....i didn't know where i wanted to go with it, then i figured it out. I happy person...lol...if it sux, tell me, just nicely, i'm trying a new style of writing, although it's kinda what i usually do, only different. it's weierd and hard to explain, whatever. please review. I feel deeply about this story. It's pretty adn emotional for all involved...(yeah the two characters and me...lol) Okay i'm done now...really! 


	6. Texas

AN: I know two things: 1) Monica wasn't born in El Paso, And 2) no i am not sure if there is a field office in El Paso, But deal with it!!! And Christian and Sidnii are figments of my own demented mind!!!  
  
She felt the plane lift up of the ground, tears drying on her face. The time to cry was over now. John was behind her. Along with the dreams and worries about Mulder, Dana, William, and the X-files. She was going back to her birthplace. To work, and live around her home. Her language. Her favorite foods, her flavors. The mariachi. She didn't realize how much she had missed it until she thought about seeing all of it again.  
  
Her stomch was lodged somewhere up in her throat. And it stayed there the entire flight until the plane had taxied to the gate in the desert like heat of Texas. El Paso. Home. Or at least so she was told. She only knew Mexico as home. But she would survive.. She made her way slowly into the town and towards the FBI Field office that she knew was there. She pulled out the directions she had gotten from what was soon to be her boss, and followed them up to the building. She didn't really want to go in, but he had said that he wanted to get her acclimated to the Texan way of running things. And in addition, she needed her pass to cross the border without lots of crap.  
  
"Agent Reyes!" Came a slow southern draw from her left almost as soon as she walked into the building, "Welcome to Texas. Glad to have you."  
  
A tall slim man held out his hand, his boyish smile lending light and sparkle to his hazel-green eyes. She hesitated to shake his hand, "Are you- " She glanced down at the paper to make sure she had the name right, "- Christian Jenkins?"  
  
"Yes ma'am. I am. You'll be reporting to me, let me take you to meet your partner, then we can sit down and have a drink in my office." He said dropping his hand awkwardly and taking the lead. Monica self-consioulsly finger-brushed back her thick hair, aware slightly of people staring at her as she walked by. He led her to an elevator, and pressed 2, "You'll be working on the second floor, in your own office. You have a connecting door to your partners, we've been a tad bit short here lately, so not only are you a welcome addition to the El Paso team, because of how long you've been in the Bureau, you have senority over a lot of the agents here. We usually get the rookies." She noticed that he was running his hands through his hair, as though he was nervous.  
  
The elevator stopped, and the door that was right across the hallway already had her name on it. He handed her a key, "It's yours, as I've already said. Ummm- if you don't mind, i'd like to go ahead and introduce you to your partner, you can check out your office on Monday." She nodded mutely, which caused Christian to be sent into a near tail-spin. He conitinued talking as they walked down the hallway towards a wide open door. They stopped in front of the doorway, and Christian gestured for her to walk in ahead of him. She walked into the room and was surprised to see one of the most beautiful women she hd ever seen up close and personal. The woman held out her hand to Monica, "Hello, Sidnii Rodreiguez. Pleasure to meet you."  
  
Monica answered back, only hesitating for a second, "Monica Reyes, and I feel the same." Monica noticed Sidnii's slight accent. It wasn't Mexican, it sounded French. But Monica knew that the girl definatly had some Spanish, or Mexican blood in her. She had honey-brown skin, with golden-green eyes that shined. Her hair was a mass of chestnut brown curls, highlighted with blondes and reds. She was a few inches taller than Monica, but she seemed shy, yet sure of herself at the same time. She continued talking with Monica, and her gestures were broad and sure, as though she had been in the theatre. They were in the middle of a livley conversation about El Paso when Christian cleared his throat pointedly. The two women had forgotten that he was even in the same room. Monica patiently went into his office, had the promised drink, and waved goodbye to Sidnii as she walked past the door.

She drove through the Mexio/US border, surprised at how quickly she had made it through, she still had about a hour long drive until she got to the town she was supposd to live in; La Coyotera. An hour of uninterrupted thoughts, which inevitably wondered about John. She missed him. Badly. She thought about the way his face looked when Brad had told him about Texas. The hurt, anger, and confusion. And then his eyes, the sadness of them after she had finished talking to him that morning. Right before she had fled from him. The entire night she had tossed and turned, hoping, but not wanting him to show up at the door. To keep her from leaving. He didn't, and here she was, driving to a small town in Mexico, dreading making this morning commute. She told herself, over and over that it was best, that she really didn't miss John, that she simply missed Washington. But even her own mind didn't believe it. Washington was John. Wherever he was was home.  
  
She shook her head, feeling tears drip off of her chin. _No Damnit, Monica!!! You can't have him! give him up!!_! She had to pull over because of the overwhelming tears clouding her vision.

AN: Don't get mad because of the way things are turning out!!! Please have faith in me!!! Brandi 


	7. Decision

Monica Reyes was still awake, at 1:30 in the morning, knowing full well that she had to get up in less than 4 hours to get ready and to make the commute across the border in order to be there for work. But she was scared to go to sleep. The dreams had come back. And this time there was nowhere close enough in the tiny Mexican town to get a pack of beer at this hour. She was on her own with these dreams. These nightmares.  
  
She paced the tiny bedroom, then opened the balcony doors to step out onto the patio. She was on the third and highest floor in her apartment complex, and she loved it. The breeze pulled her hair back behind her and ruffled the oversized t-shirt that she had on. She gripped the banister tightly and looked down at the grass under the balcony. The moonlight shining on each blade, giving the lawn an eerie glow. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears start to leak out.  
  
_This isn't working, Monica...You can't do it...You'll wonder forever, 'what could've happened?' 'What could've been?'  
_  
_But isn't that better then getting hurt again? I don't think I'll be able to take it another time. I almost lost it... She argued with herself, hoping that something would come out of it.  
  
_ _"Lo que no le mata, Le hace más fuerte,"_ the familier phrase her mother had told her as a little girl, 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' A cliche, true, but relevent nonetheless. She would come home crying, sobbing, because of things classmates had said about her. Begging her mother to home-school her. _Más Fuerte_... Stronger. And she had. Eventually she had stood up for herself. And immediatly they backed off. And she had made a few friends. And just as Mami said, she had become stronger, smarter, braver.  
  
_Be stronger, Monica._ She squeezed the banister tighter, not ready to take the responsibility, yet knowing that if she ever wanted happiness, that was what she would have to do. Take responsibility for her own life. She took a deep breath of air, and knew that this wasn't where she belonged. She belonged in Washington. With John. She would let herself trust him. She had to take a chance. She was smart enough to protect herself now.  
  
Almost instantly, she felt at peace with herself. She went inside and slept, calmly and peacefully, like she hadn't slept in years. She had found her happiness. 


End file.
